The ambling Quaker glides along the street,
With thee and thou , and friend and neighbour sweet,
Rogue in her eye, religion in her look,
With even pace that wanton ways rebuke —
Just Penseroso with L'legroe's heart,
A sad Melpomene in Thalia's part.
Tho' seeming heedless of the passing throng,
She quaintly eyes them as she moves along,
Admires each spark and pants for every swain,
Wishes them friends or that they dress'd as plain ;
For daddy never could endure a man
Whose coat was cut to fashion's modish plan;
He vows such fools are perfect frights to see;
And for a wife! — they'll not find one in me;
But Simeon Steady must make me a bride —
O La! to have the statue by my side! —
I swear aunt Rachel that I'd rather die
A maid at sixty than beside him lie, —
Tho' daddy says he has a world of sense,
And knows completely how to make the pence
— But then to see his coat without a collar,
His buckles just th'size of half a dollar,
His smooth lank hair cut formal round his neck,
His broad brimm'd hat that half-way shade his back,
His shirt's so plain, his cravat smooth and long,
And then, what stupid nonsense from his tongue!
No, let me die and never be a wife
Before I should with Simeon spend my life.
Such is the Quaker's self-denying ways,
They outward blame what most they inward praise,
Think it a sin that man should dress a-mode,
As if a coat or hat offended God.
Reason the matter and debate it o'er,
He's still tenacious as he was before,
A perfect bigot wedded to his notion,
Who proves that silence is the best devotion;
But contradict him in his steady ways?
" Friend thee is wrong " , or " knows thee what thee says? "
Yet there are some whose views are unconfin'd,
Who scorn the bigot principle of mind,
Who see religion in its proper view,
Knows what is prejudice and what is true,
Pursues the road which reason says is best,
And thinks the Roman with the Quaker blest.